A Sniff Through Time
by Nifteee
Summary: Once upon a time, before Max Caulfield's return to Arcadia Bay, there was another who cared deeply for the troubled Chloe Price. Another who would do anything to save her. Another who could travel through time and space, manipulate the future. If not save the world, save the girl. This story starts off right before the BtS timeline.
1. Chapter 1 - The Rancor

"Come on, Price, this is the home stretch! You can do it, Price, strong finish! Strong finish, eyes on the prize, Price! Right, left, right, left, go, go, go!"

With legs of jello and lungs on fire, Chloe Price stumbled round the final turn of Blackwell's race track as the school's physical ed coach, Mr. Krebabble, exhorted her with pretty much every cliché known to mankind. She could barely make out what he was saying because her heart was thundering in her ears, and she paid little heed to his voice anyway, for her ears were focused squarely on the crunching gravelly footsteps and labored breathing maybe five yards behind her.

On cue, Mr. Krebabble's cliches switched targets to the girl trailing Chloe. "Come on, Chase, only forty yards to go, hustle hustle hustle! Light on the feet, Chase, light on the feet, the wind's at your back now, no excuses! Strong finish, strong finish!"

Chloe did not dare look back to see how close Victoria was. All of her energy was focused on the finish line beckoning to her from the horizon, her wobbly legs alternating as fast as they could with the surefootedness of a newborn calf. Sweat dribbled down her pink face, stained the pits of her plain white T-shirt. Her running form was total crap now, arms flailing rather than pumping, hips all over the place inside the loose black cotton gym shorts.

For the hundredth time in her young life, Chloe swore to God that she would quit smoking. For reals, this time she would quit, honest to God. As soon as she got back to her locker, the first thing she was going to do was grab her pack of cigarettes and chuck it into the trash. But first, in the meantime, please God, if there is a god out there, please let her beat Victoria. Fucking Victoria and her hench-wenches, calling her Chimney behind her back whenever Mr. Krebabble had them pick teams for soccer or basketball. Wouldn't it be a sweet thing to have Victoria and her finely sculpted legs be outpaced by the resident slacker. Although Chloe liked to think that she had a nice pair of legs herself, thanks to all the walking the restless girl did within and outside town boundaries.

Chloe couldn't really remember what happened next. Possibly she had blacked out or passed out while on autopilot. But the next thing she knew, she found herself on the other side of the finish line and Mr. Krebabble was screaming congratulations from the grassy sideline.

"Good job, Price, good job! Shaved nearly a minute off from last year's time, heck, almost matched your phenomenal first year time! Good freaking job, Price, good to see that fire back in your belly!"

Chloe appreciated Mr. Krebabble's sentiments (if there was one thing that wasn't fake about Blackwell, it was Mr. Krebabble's enthusiasm about his students pushing themselves to their limits), but she was pretty darn sure that she was about to puke out all that fire in her belly, along with her morning cereal and the chewing gum she had surreptitiously swallowed during chemistry class when Ms. Grant had called her out on said gum. She promptly bent over to place her hands on her knees and cease all movement, staring at the gravel with bulging eyes surely bloodshot from all the blood rushing through her head.

"Good job, Chase, good job! Shaved off twenty seconds from last year's time, ever improving, Chase, ever improving, that's what I like to see! Let's crack that eight minute mile next semester, Chase, we know you can do it, you got the eye of the tiger, Chase, eye of the tiger!"

Chloe finally turned her head to look behind her, where Victoria Chase, in a similar white T-shirt and baggy black cotton gym shorts, was also bent over and facing away from Chloe in a most determined effort to avoid all eye contact. Victoria's primary hench wenches, Taylor Christensen and Courtney Wagner, had just crossed the finish line themselves and they put aside their own physical woes to rush over to Victoria and confirm her well-being.

Chloe managed to grin as she straightened up, placed her hands on her hips, and looked away from the defeated Victoria, all so that she could better suck in that sweet smell of victory. From somewhere on the other side of the track, she could hear Justin calling out to her in sincere admiration.

"Goddamn, Chloe, you busting ass like Speedy Gonzalez! You got jets for wheels, man!"

Mr. Krebabble shouted, "Williams, holy crap, what the hell are you doing over there! You still got one and a half laps to go, quit your yapping and get hustling! I've seen you on your skateboard, you're an able bodied young man, now go go go, push push push!"

Justin's lazy drawl replied, "I'm going as fast as I can, Mr. Krebabble, I got tinnitus in my left knee, I swear!"

Chloe grinned at the skater boy and his fellow stragglers in the distance, then trudged straight to the girl's locker room, not bothering to go sit in the bleachers where quite a few sweaty jocks and jockettes already sat. She had almost upped and left at the start of class when Mr. Krebabble had announced that today was the one-mile run, but the opportunity to slink out unnoticed had never presented itself; he had been staring at her pretty much the whole time, most likely surprised that she had actually bothered to show up on a Friday. In hindsight, she was glad that she had stayed, even if she was pretty sure that she had just suffered a series of mild heart attacks. For today, at least, V stood for victory, not Victoria. Hell fucking yeah.

Once inside the girls locker room, Chloe shucked her clothes and shoes and tossed them into her locker, slid into a pair of flip flops, and wobbled over to the showers. A couple girls were already in there, Dana "The Actually Nice Cheerleader" Ward and Steph "Don't Call Me Newt" Gingrich, having already finished their mile run and getting their lather on. Chloe liked them both, even if Dana was a cheerleader, and so she greeted them as she settled under the shower head next to Steph.

"Hey Steph, hey Dana."

"Hey Chloe," the two girls chimed.

Chloe gave her shower's faucet a spin and ducked her head into the ensuing stream of pleasantly hot water. "Damn, Steph, you run the table top club and you run a seven minute mile. What's next, you gonna run this town as well?"

The shorter girl grinned from where she stood in between Chloe and Dana. "Well, slap me silly and call me Prescott. But nah, I'm skipping this town and gunning straight for world domination. And you also forgot that I run on the track team as well."

"Damn, let me know when you're skipping town so I can roll with you," Chloe said.

"Sure thing," Steph said, the open lesbian very much content to be sandwiched in between two tall pretty girls with legs to die for. She took a look up and down Chloe. "Have you been working out? Your legs are getting buff. In a good way."

Dana took a look as well. "Whoa, Chloe, Steph's right! Those thighs and calves are rocking!"

"Oh my god, you guys." Chloe's eyes rolled as her face went pink. "I've just been doing a lot of walking lately, that's all."

"Oh, that's great!" Dana nodded enthusiastically. "Brisk walking is totally the best exercise. Low impact on the joints, high cardio for the heart, you can't go wrong!"

"Don't worry, my cancer sticks cancel all that good shit out. Hey! Speaking of walking!" Chloe grinned. "You guys know what's better than walking, right?'"

Steph and Dana blinked. "What?

Chloe emphatically pumped her fist. "Firewalking, that's what! They're playing next week at the old wood mill, baby!"

Steph's and Dana's faces registered absolutely nothing at the mention of Firewalk, and Chloe realized that her totally clever wordplay with her favorite band's name was totally lost on the other two girls.

The cheerleader asked, "Who's playing?" Dana's face suddenly brightened. "Oh, you mean the football game next week against the Firebirds!"

Steph's face suddenly brightened as well. "Oh wait, Firewalk? I know who they are! That's Skip's band, isn't it?"

Chloe's shoulders sagged underneath the hot water. "Ah, forget about it."

A few minutes and a mundane conversation later, the three girls headed back to their lockers. Most of the other girls were streaming in just now from outside, some of them already at their lockers. Victoria's locker was on the other side of the room from where Chloe's was, and Victoria was still making sure to keep her back facing toward Chloe at all times. Chloe smirked and swung open her locker to retrieve her clothes and shoes.

Ten seconds later, a loud angry roar reverberated throughout the room, evoking memories of the Rancor underneath Jabba the Hutt's palace within Stephanie's fantasy-muddled head. Every girl inside the locker room turned her head and looked to where the irate Chloe Price stood in disbelief in front of her locker.

"I don't fucking believe this!" Chloe was turning her denim pants inside out in animated frustration. "They're gone again, Steph! They're fucking gone again!"

Steph, who was two lockers down from Chloe, said, "What's wrong, Chloe?"

"My fucking panties! They fucking vanished into thin air!" Chloe tossed her denims onto the bench and plucked out her shoes and shirt (no backpack, because she'd forgotten to bring her backpack to school today) so that her locker was totally empty, save for a few feminine products. "This is the third fucking time in the past six months!"

"Holy crap, again?" Steph walked over to check Chloe's pants and locker to confirm the utter lack of panties. "Well damn, that fucking sucks. I guess we have a real life panty thief among our ranks."

"I guess we do." Chloe made sure that the towel around her body was secure before she spun around to glare at Victoria, who had finally turned around to acknowledge Chloe's existence. "I guess we fucking do."

Victoria's emerald green eyes flashed with an indignant fire, and the short haired blonde crossed her arms over her bra-clad chest. "Why the fuck are you looking at me?"

"I dunno, Victoria, I didn't say shit to you just now. Why are you copping an attitude?"

"Me copping an attitude? You're the one on the fucking warpath, barking up the wrong tree!" She sniffed, "Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead with a pair of Hanes in my hands."

Taylor chimed in, "Back off, Chloe! Victoria walked in with everyone else, she didn't mess with your locker or clothes!"

Chloe really wanted to walk over and slap Victoria and Taylor silly, but the only problem was that the wannabe queen bee actually seemed to be telling the truth for once. Plus, quite a few other girls were nodding their heads in affirmation of Taylor's alibi, girls who didn't really care for Victoria. Just to be sure, Steph placed a soothing hand on the huffing and puffing teenage Rancor.

"Hey Chloe, I got a backup pair you can wear for now. Normally I save them for track meets but you can have them instead."

Chloe's dark scowl softened to just a frown as she turned to her beetle browed savior. "Thanks, Steph, I owe you one."

"You owe me two, actually. You borrowed a pair the last time as well. Two months ago, I think?"

"I do? Holy shit!" Chloe blinked in shock. "You're fucking right, that was the second time too! And now a fucking third time? A fucking serial panty thief in Blackwell, what in the flying fuck! What kind of fucking pervert would fucking steal my panties?"

"An admiring pervert, maybe?" Steph shrugged. "Maybe there's another girl who's got the hots for you, Chloe Price, but she's too shy to tell you."

"Whoever this girl is, she's gotta be real fucking dumb if she thinks she's scoring any points with me pulling off this shit - " Chloe blinked in shock one more time. "Wait, Steph, what did you just say?"

"Oh, nothing. Here, put these on."

Fifteen minutes later, the inconspicuous Samantha Myers hurried out of the girls' locker room, her bowed head lost amid the babbling brook of similarly homebound girls. Samantha rode the schoolgirl wave out the door, then veered off toward the school parking lot. The waifish girl's backpack was stuffed to the brim, her shadow from the overhead sun that of a wicked hunchback crone. Her thin legs were very much that of a healthy teenager, though, anxiously speedwalking across the fresh black asphalt, passing by cars both gleaming and rusty. Her ears burned red as she cast furtive glances over her shoulder, half expecting the silhouette of a bellicose Chloe Price to suddenly appear on the horizon, beating her chest with a deafening roar, and then lumbering furiously after the thief who had made off with her beloved Hanes.

Samantha had nothing to fear, however, for Chloe Price was currently sitting in the absolute back of the school bus, staring at the ceiling with her jaw agape, wondering where the fuck her panties were. And so, as the girl neared the far end of the parking lot, her nerves calmed down and her gait eventually slowed to that of a brisk trot, until she finally came to a stop by a yellow well-traveled hatchback.

Eliot Hampden was waiting, leaning against his car, hands in his pockets, his face eerily bland as always. "Hey. You got them?"

Samantha nodded, barely able to make eye contact. "Yeah. How about you?"

With one smooth motion, Eliot reached into his jacket and retrieved a bulky manila envelope. "Right here."

He cracked open the envelope so Samantha could peek inside and view its contents. She nodded, lowered her backpack to the ground, opened it, and pulled out a crumpled paper bag.

Eliot took the bag from her, opened it, and peered inside. Baby blue cotton peeked out at him, adorned with a white waistband labeled HANES. He took in a deep sniff, just to be sure, and his beloved's wonderful musk filled his nose, rushed down his throat, invigorated his lungs.

He nodded in confirmation and handed the envelope over to Samantha, who immediately crammed it into her backpack. "Thanks."

She nodded as she shouldered her backpack once more. "You too."

The exchange had been made, thus the conversation was over. They went their separate ways, Eliot sliding into his car, Samantha hustling back to her dorm room.

Meanwhile, a shrill scream suddenly filled the boys' locker room of Blackwell.

"What the fuuuuuck!"

A number of boys stared in confusion as a wild eyed Nathan Prescott stood with balled fists at his sides, huffing and puffing in front of his open locker.

"Who the fuck keeps taking my underwear! Who! Who in the flying fuck whooooo!"

 _ **To Be Continued**_

 **Author's Note: I have no fucking idea where I'm going with this, hah! The other day I was thinking about how creepy Eliot was, and I started wondering what creepy things Eliot might have been doing besides stalking Chloe. Also, I can't help but think that something ain't right about that Samantha girl, so I threw her in there as well.**

 **Comments, criticisms, feedback, and suggestions all welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2 - Another Photo Shoot

_**April 22, 2013**_

The bass was bumping, colorful lights were flashing, sweaty bodies were dancing, and Rachel Amber was utterly bored. The gorgeous dirty blonde sat alone at the far end of the popup bar, nursing a nearly empty cosmopolitan through a straw as her hands typed away at her phone:

"BORED AS FUCK WHEN YOU COMING"

She hit send, then opened the phone's web browser to look up the latest entertainment news. A loud boorish voice, young and male, sounded behind her.

"Hey Rachel babe, this DJ fucking rocks, you're missing out! Wanna get a groove on?"

The voice and words sounded mostly like Logan, but he could have been Zachary, Fenton, Dexter, or any of the Blackwell jocks, Rachel honestly thought they all sounded the same. She didn't bother to look back to check, as she started to read a feature on Natalie Portman.

She did make sure to say, loudly and clearly, "Get the fuck out of my face."

Now, everyone knew that Rachel was the queen of Blackwell and, 99% of the time, she was the coolest chick around, the most fun chick to hang out with, a shapely bundle of laughs and smiles. However, everyone also knew that, 1% of the time, she was a moody unapproachable bitch who didn't give a fuck about anybody or anything and would tell this to your face if you tried to talk to her. Apparently tonight was 1% Rachel.

He didn't say anything at first, as she felt the male presence immediately boil with anger behind her. She could feel a hand raise up, linger over her shoulder as if to seize her, spin her around, demand her full attention.

The hand held pause, however, and a crooked grin crossed her mouth as her eyes took in the name of Natalie's upcoming movie. The big boy was thinking, probably thinking as hard as he could if he were indeed Logan, about the last time someone put his hands on Rachel Amber.

It had been about three months ago, at another similar party hosted by both Nathan Prescott and Victoria Chase. Rachel had showed up just like tonight, hoping to run into someone new and interesting. But like tonight, no dice. She had ended up in a corner with Chloe, where they just yakked about whatever. Some random generic handsome guy from a nearby college wanted to dance with her, or maybe with Chloe if Rachel weren't up to it. Rachel told him to fuck off before Chloe could cuss him out. The drunk young man blew up in her face, grabbed her by the shoulder with his right hand, spun her around, and yelled that no little bitch talked to him like that. Chloe promptly broke a beer bottle over his head, not really hurting him, but sufficiently enraging him that everyone took notice of the ruckus and others intervened. Nathan sided with Rachel of course, told the guy to get the fuck out and go back to wherever he came from. The guy left after a few choice words for Blackwell students in general, storming down the sidewalk to find a taxi presumably.

He never made it back home that night. The following morning, a jogger found the man horribly beaten to within inches of death. His left hand was intact, but his right hand, the hand he'd grabbed Rachel with, was horribly mangled, all five fingers broken backwards, a couple of the carpal bones poking out from the back of his hand. He still talked with a slur and still walked with a limp, last anyone heard. Questions were asked, no suspects were named. Rachel's father denied any involvement on behalf of his office and local law enforcement, and that was the truth. Rachel knew who had done this, but she played the part of the innocent victim flawlessly. In the end, the incident just served to reaffirm everyone's belief that you didn't mess with the DA's daughter.

Tonight, the young man's hand pulled back to his side. "Whatever," the voice muttered. Then the male presence left to find more willing fruit. The stink of his cologne faded.

Rachel's phone suddenly vibrated as a text arrived, and she swiped to her text app.

"STIL WIT MOM N STEPDUCHE. SERVICE SLO AS SHIT FOOD TAKIN 4EVER".

She grinned and typed back, "SAVE ME FROM THIS SHIT".

"YOULL LIVE HOLD UR HORSES"

"SAVING A SEAT FOR U HURRY UP"

With that, Rachel swiped back to the Portman article. The bro had been right about one thing, at least. The music was bumping and her foot tapped against one of the legs of the tall stool she sat upon. She couldn't wait for Chloe to show up so they could hit the dance floor together. Make the boys get stiffies, make the girls all jealous.

Another boy slid up to the bar now, sitting two seats over from her. This one was an actual friend, so Rachel bothered to look up and smile hello.

"Hey Nathan, what's going on."

"Hey Rache, nothing much." Nathan Prescott had an unopened bottle of Guiness in one hand and a freshly shaken cosmo in the other. He set the cosmo down and nudged it in her direction. "In case you want a refill."

This was maybe the twentieth party which she and Nathan had been a part of, and this was hardly the first time Nathan had brought her a drink. So she didn't think twice as she grinned and reached to pull the cosmo over to her side. "You read my mind. Thanks."

"No problem." He cracked open his bottle, took a swig, then plunked it down on the counter. "Man, this party kinda sucks."

Rachel laughed. "Well, it's your party last I checked!"

"Hey, Victoria was the one who pushed for this one, not me! I just pitched in, that's all." Nathan shrugged. "She wants to use this as a launchpad for resurrecting the Vortex club."

"Really? Oh, that Victoria." She sighed as she took her first sip from the cosmo. "Everything she does just has to have a reason behind it."

"Yeah." Nathan rested his chin on the top of the bottle. "It's a plus for her, though. She has her goals, she knows what she wants, and she goes for them."

"True, true." Rachel rested her chin on a propped up hand now, her mesmerizing eyes gazing into his. "What about you, Nathan Prescott? Got anything big and new on the horizon for yourself?"

"Not really, same old stuff, I guess. Dad's still got his plans for his business, our family, this town. Right now, I'm just counting down the days til we graduate."

Rachel hadn't expected a different answer from him. Poor Nathan. She did nod at his last line, however, and she lifted up her glass. "Amen to that. To graduation day."

He rose his bottle to her glass. "A-fucking-men." They clinked glass to bottle, then drank, each downing another gulp. Then they set their drinks back down and shared a comfortable silence. Just two troubled rich kids who seemingly had everything they could ever want.

Nathan then perked up as a thought came to light, and a genuine winsome smile brightened his face, a far cry from the usual guarded expression which he wore around most others. "Actually, you know what? I've been thinking of doubling down on the photography class I'm taking right now with Mr. Jefferson! It's the first class I've ever been truly excited about, truly inspired by, and I'm seriously thinking that if I have a talent for it, I'm gonna make it my major in college!"

Rachel wore a careful smile at the mention of Mr. Jefferson, and her heart beat a little faster. "Oh really? That's great!"

"Yeah! I mean, I've always wanted others to see the world as how I see it, express myself and my beliefs, my understandings! There seriously isn't a better way for me to convey this than through photography! Framing my perspective however I want, having other people share my perspective through a common lens! It's perfect for me!"

The eighteen year old Nathan now looked like an eight year old who had just received a puppy on Christmas Day, and Rachel smiled wide at his genuine enthusiasm. He really was disarmingly cute when he was relaxed, open, happy. So unfortunate he was unable to shake himself free from his father's shadow, she might have pursued him otherwise. Then again, she also had more than a sneaking suspicion that he was gay, due to the complete lack of sexual tension whenever they interacted. Not that this bothered her in the slightest bit. If anything, she enjoyed having a boy she could freely shoot the shit with. The comfort they shared was why he was pretty much the only Blackwell boy allowed to buy a drink for her.

She grinned and wiggled the half-empty cosmo before her. "That's awesome! Then I'm guessing that photo shoot we did a couple weeks ago went over real well with the critics!"

"Oh, you wouldn't even believe the response we got from Mr. Jefferson! I mean, he's usually an enthusiastic guy, but he was downright fucking effusive when he saw the photos we'd done! He said I definitely had an eye capable of making it to the big shows and, oh, and he said you were a fucking A+ model as well. A freaking natural in front of the lens! He said it ain't easy to make modeling look so effortless, but you did!"

She glowed from the rave reviews, even though she had already heard them a couple nights ago from the mouth of the reviewer himself, and she instinctively fluffed out her hair with the air of a prized peacock. "Well, I'm glad it worked out so well! And yeah, that was a ton of fun! I mean, I've sat for family photos, school photos, photo booths, shit like that, but it really is thrilling to have someone capture you, and only you, with an actual aesthetic in mind."

"I know, right?" Nathan took another swig from his bottle. "Hey, we should do another shoot sometime! Like, I dunno, next week or something! Last time we were out in the blazing sun, this time I've been thinking that it might be cool to do something during sunset, ya know? With the day dying while the night settles in? This time of year, a sunset brings forth a whole spectrum of color you can't capture anytime else!"

"Oh?" Rachel's smile dampened a bit at his suggestion, but she kept on smiling. "Well, the shoot was fun, no doubt about it, but I dunno if I have the time right now to do another full fledged shoot."

Nathan's easy smile visibly cracked at her subdued words, but he kept on smiling as well. "Aw really?"

"Yeah," she helplessly smiled and shrugged. "I mean, if you want to snag a photo or two after a school day, I'm down for that anytime! But not a three or four hour session like last time, I just can't do it." Another appeasing smile. "Sorry."

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Man, Rache, you're killing me! What've you doing these days anyway? We've been seeing less and less of you, everyone's wondering where you've been!"

"Mmm, just working on a few things, no biggie. Looking to the future after graduation and Blackwell."

"Oh, like college apps and stuff?"

She nodded. "Oh yeah, those are definitely on my plate right now."

Nathan knew Rachel well enough to notice her half-answer, but he let it go because he could afford to. He sighed and rested his chin on the top of his bottle once more. "All right, all right, I was afraid you weren't gonna be available, but it's all good. Just let me know when your schedule opens up, and we'll blow everyone away again. Heck, forget posting them online, maybe we can even submit to publications!"

She knew that he knew, but she was glad nonetheless that he didn't push further. She could always count on Nathan to give her space. "Sounds like a plan, Stan. But still, keep on taking photos even when I'm not around! You really do have a gift for that stuff and, if you're looking for models, I'm sure anyone would be honored to have you snapping shots of them!"

"Yeah, I know, I've been taking photos of other people as well. But, ya know, you're motherfucking Rachel Amber!"

She had to laugh openly at that. "That's right, Nate, and don't you fucking forget it!"

His easy grin was back now and he whipped out his phone. "Yo, at least let me steal a picture of us right here and now. I wanna be able to look back and say that this party wasn't a total waste of time."

"Oh my god, fine!" Rachel's big smile belied her exasperated words, however, as she brushed back a stray hair or two and patted the seat next to her. "Just one, though!"

"Deal!" He grinned as he scooted over next to her, and they leaned into each other, smiling big as he held out his phone to snap a selfie. "On the count of one, two, three! Rachel and me!"

"Oh my god, Nate, you're such a nerd!"

"Dude, you talked during the photo!" He pulled the phone to himself to look at the selfie he'd just taken. "Ruined! Totally ruined!"

"It is not ruined, what are you talking about!" She peered over his shoulder now. "Okay, my mouth might be a teeny bit blurry. But I still look totally hot!"

He placed a thinking man's finger against his chin as he rotated his phone screen this way and that. "Hmm, I dunno, Rache. I think you owe me a do-over."

"Oh my god, you total super duper nerd!" She give his shoulder a playful shove. "It's just a selfie, not a Pulitzer entry – oh whoa."

The world around her suddenly became muffled, distant. She lost her balance and pitched face first into Nathan's back. Fatigue and sleepiness overwhelmed the lightweight girl as she vaguely sensed him turning to hold her upright. Her lithe limbs had all the sturdiness of wet noodles, and her eyelids were as heavy as sheets of lead, like the lead blanket she had worn during an X-ray when she was ten, while her father and stepmother had waited anxiously in the other room.

She managed to grab onto his left shoulder for a moment, clinging to him for support. "Nate, I... I don't feel so good - "

Then her eyes rolled back and she was out.

Nathan quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching. Nobody was, or at least nobody was staring right at them. He immediately slung her arm over his neck, put an arm around her waist, and shuffled with her toward a side entrance, trying to hide the fact that he was carrying her entire body weight. To the casual observer, just another wasted high school girl being helped outside to grab a breath of fresh air, or maybe puke in a back alley, something along those lines. A more concerned observer might have wondered why the girl wasn't being taken to the restroom instead, or one of the numerous open sofas lying about the bar, but the Vortex Club didn't concern themselves with such matters.

"I'm sorry, Rache, I really am," Nathan whispered under his breath as he pushed open the side door with his foot. "But you owe me another shoot."

 _ **To Be Continued**_

 **Author's Note: Phew, this chapter was dark, unlike the first one! I didn't plan on doing a total 180 from the first chapter, but as the chapter unfolded, it just felt right to keep the tone dark. So yeah, this is my spin on the initial sequence of events during the night that Rachel "disappeared". This Nathan isn't as visibly unhinged as he was in LiS, since it was probably the accidental overdose of Rachel which pushed him over the edge. This Nathan is more low key, a predator who lulls his victims into a sense of security rather than just brandishing a gun and shouting down all who antagonize him. I also had to slide in those creepy Jefferson references because Jefferson is a legit creep!**

 **Also, quick responses to the reviews left behind for the previous chapter :D**

Xemtlenc - Yeah, the panties thing is a total ripoff from anime, hah. I've got my ideas about what Eliot and others might do with those panties, hold your horses!

Kabaneri - Thanks, glad you're liking it so far!

st2439 - Haha, I know right? It's always the quiet ones...


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